The Revolution
by master.of.puppets.com
Summary: CHAPTER THREE UP! An old friend goes corrupt, and in his mind nobody deserves to live, and he sets out to destroy all the worlds. Now its up to Will and Lyra to stop this evil force. Please R&R!
1. Chapter One: Balthamos

CHAPTER 1: CORRUPTION

Balthamos stood, only a few yards away from the opening to the land of the dead, watching as astream of ghosts, some unsure, others knowing what would happen exited, then vanished in a matter of seconds, their atoms spreading to find their loved ones. Half of Balthamos was daringhim to go inside, and the other cautioning him, telling him that he shouldn't. In the end he decidedit would be better to go in, and learn, than to miss out and regret, so he carefully proceeded tothe entrance. Balthamos peered around the entrance ducking to avoid ghosts.

He suddenly felt unsure. The only thing he knew about the land of the dead was that there were harpies guarding it, and let no one enter unless they were dead.

Mentally he slapped himself thinking that Baruch would do this for him if it had been Baruch that had lived, and he that had died. Putting on a mask of determination, he marched a few feet, and then suddenly he looked down and his determination suddenly dropped a couple notches, knowing that he no longer had the ability to fly he would have to climb down the gigantic cliff as Humans would. Balthamos knew he still could fly, but in his current state of depression, he couldn't. He then tried to think of how he would see Baruch again, and how that would make him so joyful!

He tested his wings again, and he flew. Oh the joy of flight! Balthamos thought. But this is nothing compared to how happy I shall be when I see my beloved Baruch! He gently glided down the tremendous cliff, dodging on coming ghosts, escaping towards the world.

After a few minutes, he gently curved up as the cliff started to end and he floated over the gigantic gap in which the Church had attempted to murder Lyra. He stopped suddenly. He felt a strange thing happen, as if the wound in his heart caused by Baruch's death had started to heal, little by little, as if he was getting happier, arising from his depression, little by little.

"Baruch!!!" He cried not knowing where she was, but knowing she was near. He flew as fast as he could, quickly searching every ghosts face, searching for his Baruch.

Fear stopped him cold. Gazing straight at him was a harpy with a ghost next to her telling stories of its life. The harpy was age old, scarred not from battles, but by life, a face, molded in perpetual disgust, eyes formed to be forever hard and cold, a body shriveled and frail, yet powerful and sleek, with wings of what would be black feathers but instead looked like something other than black, with years of dirt and grime plastered on them. Balthamos stayed frozen, feeling as if his whole life was being read by this harpy. After being read for a little while, the harpy seemed to grunt, and looked away, knowing why Balthamos was here, and let him continue with what he was doing.

A familiar face floated past Balthamos, not even taking a glance at him. But Balthamos would recognize that face anywhere. "Baruch! Oh my beloved Baruch!" He rushed towards the ghost and embraced it as much as an angel could with a ghost. However, all he got in response was a terrified look.

"Who are you?" The ghost Balthamos identified as Baruch whispered silently. Balthamos was shocked.

"But—Baruch do you not recognize me, my beloved?" The ghost still retained its terrified look.

"And how do you know my name?" it trembled. A tear escaped Balthamos. As it slowly traveled down his cheek, his bright figure gave his tear a radical effect.

"Do—Do you not recognize me?" Balthamos let more tears escape. He also let a sob escape him

"...No" Baruch replied, his terror slowly morphing into sorrow and pity for this angel he did not recognize

"Then—Then what do you remember, how did you die?" Balthamos stammered in between sobs.

"I died in a car crash—and right after everything went all black, I remember an old man appear in my mind—he was very, very old. I think he was God, anyway, he told me I had a very important thing to do and then I remember I was in some sort of mountain that was all cloudy, and you couldn't see anything outside of it, and the old man was there, and he smiled. I felt something on my back, it sort of rippled, and it looked as if something was going to come out, and then—something was going to happen, but that's all I can remember..." Baruch looked troubled.

"Then... Then you are my Baruch! But you are not my Baruch..." Balthamos thought about what Baruch had told him, tears still flowing. Suddenly the answer came. The Authority uses angels for his own needs. _I—I am not an individual. I am a slave. _Sorrow turned into anger. The Authority wipes all angels of their memories when they die. _Then what was I made for? Am I just a slave who thinks he's free? _Then the most disturbing of thoughts reached him. _Then... When _I _die...I won't remember any of this!_ He froze. He wouldn't recall anything about his beloved Baruch. He did not know what he was feeling. It was some sort of fusion between sorrow, anger, and confusion. But the most predominant was hate. Hate towards the now dead Authority. Hate towards whoever was the Authority now.

All the time in which Balthamos thought this, Baruch stared at him in a pitiful look of remorse.

"Baruch... Don't forget this... I—I love you... And... And when I'm done... You shall know...You _shall _know!!!" He swore as he took a final glance at his beloved and flew off, following the path that so many ghosts have taken. When he reached the outside, he sat under a tree and wept.

Days passed, and that weeping slowly turned into tears of anger. And when Balthamos felt no more sorrow, and he was purely hate. He was no longer Balthamos. He was no longer an angel. He was a Demon. And his name was Satan.

A/N Oooo... The suspense =P This was a pretty long chapter x.x. Please R&R and please keep flames to a minimum =P Constructive criticism is however is something I want. Chapter 2 will come out soon. [[edit]] Giarc tells me Baruch is a guy too, so I had to err.. Fix that. Giarc also tells me Balthamos died. Which I also don't seem to recall, so lets all just pretend he's alive shall we? =P


	2. Chapter Two: Lyra

CHAPTER TWO: LYRA

Two years after Lyra's heart-wrenching separation from Will, she and her dæmon Pantalaimon decided to take up Dame Hannah's offer and go to her boarding school, even though she knew that she would despise all the other girls.

Now, one year after Lyra decided to go to the boarding school, Lyra was wishing she'd never chosen to go to the boarding school. Out of all the hundreds of girls in the school, only one was her friend.

"Oh!! Lyra!! You'll never guess what Jake told me today!!" Hannah blabbered to Lyra on morning before school started. Her dæmon was a small chattering chickadee, which fit perfectly with Hannah, thought Lyra blandly. The only reason Lyra kept Hannah as a close friend was because she didn't have the heart to tell her to go away, and because somehow, her incessant chatter seemed to take Lyra's mind off things that troubled her. Mostly Will.

"Uhhh..." Lyra let out a sigh, thinking about what Jake could've possibly told Hannah, while slowly combing her hair, and preparing her things for class. "He told you he likes you and wants to go out with you?" Lyra smiled gently. But upon closer inspection you could see her smile was deeply troubled.

"Who told you?!" Hannah said sharply.

"Well it's only obvious," Lyra said chuckling softly. "You're constantly getting new boyfriends, and I think this is the first time you've said the name 'Jake' around me," She gave Hannah another wounded smile.

"I am NOT constantly getting new boyfriends!" She said slightly insulted by Lyra's comment.

"I don't know about you, but I would call two boyfriends a week constant," Lyra said, almost finished preparing her things. Hannah was very disorganized, and was usually late to class. But before Hannah could interject, Lyra said quickly. "Sorry Hannah.. Math," She sighed mournfully. Hannah gave her a look of shock and disgust.

"Oh... Okay, see you later!" She said rather sad as Lyra walked out of the dorm and headed to math class. Lyra shook her head and laughed silently to herself. Unfortunately, Hannah wasn't in any of her classes because she was a few years younger than Lyra. Now that Hannah wasn't around, Lyra just thought about things with nothing to do with whatever class she was in. She was constantly berated for this.

Half an hour into her class, she suddenly jolted in her seat realizing that Midsummer was just a week away. However this caught the attention of everyone in the room. Including Mrs. Juliet.

"Lyra! What _is _the matter?" A stern voice most recognized as Mrs. Juliet's' voice called out.

"Huh? Oh!—Uhh... I uhh I figured out the err, the answer to the problem we're on." She said doubtfully.

"Oh!" Mrs. Juliet said in a somewhat happier tone of voice. "Would you care to tell us?"

Lyra looked up at the bored and saw a hopeless string of numbers and equations, and other gibberish you couldn't even dream of understanding. Now was one of the times where she really wished she could consult the alethiometer. But now since she could not she had to resort to saying,

"I forget," and glared fiercely at everyone that giggled and pointed at her. Pantalaimon in his Pine Marten form even added some menacing growls too. But When Lyra glared like that she couldn't bear it. Every time she did this she remembered Will, and her heart thudded painfully. After she could bear it no longer, she sullenly looked down, and sunk her head into her arms, with Pan around her neck, reassuring Lyra as much as he could.

The rest of the day was similar. This is why Lyra hated the boarding school. But at the end of the day, most of her troubles by Hannah's endless babbling of what Hannah defined as "love". Of course Lyra knew Hannah had never known love as Lyra had known it. But for now, all Lyra did was listen and she was comforted. And before she fell asleep, she mentally recounted how many days till midsummer. Sorrowfully, she smiled, then all her worries were not thoughts, but dreams.


	3. Chapter Three: Will

CHAPTER THREE: WILL

Will trudged down the dark alleyway, hands stuffed in his pockets, randomly kicking pebbles away from him. After successfully evading half a dozen searching police cars, Will was beat. His temper was slowly rising, almost at boiling point.

'Why the hell hasn't Mary called me?' he thought angrily. 'If she doesn't call soon I'm going to have to make a happy little camp out here in this beautiful little ally.' He muttered sarcastically to himself. Kirjava slowly walked up next to Will, licking her paws.

That was the plan. Everyday. Will would leave bright and early, and look for those charity things where they gave out free junk to the homeless. Only problem is that there usually tend to be police, and they usually don't give stuff out to teenagers. So while Will swiped, Mary guarded all of their things with a twelve gauge Will had managed to swipe from an old man who'd croaked. Will had to be extra careful when he came back because the police had a vague idea of the stretch Will and Mary covered each day.

Will dropped down suddenly, against the wall and propped his knees up against his chest as he drew out the walkie-talkie that thudded against his thigh when he walked. Making sure he had placed all the controls in the right place, he gave up with a resigned sigh. He dropped the walkie-talkie to the ground and laid his head on his arms. Kirjava jumped on Will, nestling herself warmly, as Will stroked her absentmindedly.

What seemed like hours to Will passed by. Will started to grow a mixture of concern and fear for Mary. It wasn't usual for her to make Will wait so long. But then again Mary had her little tendencies ever since she and Will came back to their own world. And watched painfully as Lyra slowly merged with her world, and Will with his. Will died inside each time he thought about Lyra. He died inside each time he saw someone remotely like Lyra. He died each time he saw a Coca Cola ad or smelled omelets in the morning. The list went on.

His depressing reminiscing was cut short by a seemingly deafening burst of static from his walkie-talkie.

"Errr... Will everything's okay. Nothing suspicious.." came the garbled voice of Mary Malone. Will quickly snatched the walkie-talkie.

"Why the hell took you so long?!" Will spoke angrily into the walkie-talkie.

"I uh- I- Oh god this is embarrassing... I umm- I fell asleep. Sorry," Mary mumbled silently. Will let out a long sigh of frustration.

"Thanks," he said seething. Mary did not respond. Will stood up abruptly sending Kirjava yowling. Even after two years, Will and his dæmon hadn't really felt like they were one, like Lyra and Pantalaimon. 'Oh god..' Will thought sending his train of thought back on Lyra as he jammed the walkie-talkie into his pocket and trudging slowly back to Will and Mary's usual hide out.

Will finally got to their shelter and approached the dingy door, and preformed the secret knock.

Slide, knock, knock, knock, slide, pause, pause, slide, slide.

Will personally thought the whole thing was a heaping pile of junk. But Mary insisted in keeping it. A few moments later, a sleepy eyed Mary appeared and gave Will an apologetic smile. Mary had aged a lot in the two years with Will. She grew frail. Will however grew strong, and exactly the way Lyra had imagined him as an adult.

Mary fingered her gigantic shotgun and apologized nervously

"Look I'm sorry... I swear, I have no idea what got over me, I was wide awake, then like, two seconds later I was—"

"Just stop. It's alright anyway..." Will interrupted. All he wanted to do was sleep. Ironically. He walked to his bedroom and before flopping onto his bed, he checked all of his belongings. Most of what would seem worthless to other people, but priceless to Will. He quickly checked through all his things, since Mary had fallen asleep he needed to make sure that all was there. Hidden under all of Wills little trinkets was possibly the most important of all. A cheap wooden box made of rummaged plywood Will had found here and there. Its contents held the shards of the Subtle Knife. Will slowly opened the box and his eyes spread in fear and horror. The shards were missing.

A/N Damn it took me a long time to write this thing, x.x Made a nice little cliffie there. Even though its so incredibly obvious who took the shards. =P Anyway please review and, errr.. Enjoy!


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